


Much Ado About Everything

by Missterryrighter



Series: Gratuitous Self Indulgence [2]
Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal, Angst, Blow Job, Drinking, F/F, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, dub con, smut with plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missterryrighter/pseuds/Missterryrighter
Summary: A collection of one shots set in the same universe as Under Different Circumstances but not canon to it1. Kieran/Kym2. Belladonna/Kym3. Dylan/Will4. Belladonna/Kym (with plot)5. Dylan/Will (with angst)
Relationships: Kym Ladell & Kieran White, Kym Ladell/Belladonna Davenport, William Hawkes/Dylan Rosenthal
Series: Gratuitous Self Indulgence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834699
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31
Collections: Purple Hyacinth Smut





	1. Archive Misadventures

“I need your help with something,” Kym said lounging on Kieran’s desk in the archive while he tossed the case file off to the side.

“I’m listening.”

“Lauren’s ignoring you, and Will is ignoring me so… let’s make them jealous.”

Kym had slipped off her shoes and socked feet poked between his spread legs.

He accommodated her spreading them wider so she could develop some kind of feeling in him. “So what are you suggesting?”

“I think you know,” she said with a grin, before gasping as he surprised her by getting up in a flash and pushing her back against the wall.

He had her before she could reconsider. His teeth sharp and cruel had her lip that he worried and bruised before soothing it with his tongue. When he pulled back she was breathless but he wasn’t done.

He tugged her shirt out from her pants and pulled it up over her head, but he’d neglected the buttons, so it caught leaving her trapped with her arms over her head and blind. He then pulled her bra down enough he could fondle her nipples, but it still cupped her curves. She whined, but he pressed a thumb to her lips spreading them ever so slightly.

“Shush,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t want someone to find you here like this would you? You wouldn’t want Will to see you.”

That got a soft moan from her before she bit down on the pad of his thumb.

He struck her across the face hard not enough to welt but it certainly hurt, before grabbing her roughly by the chin taking her lips. His hand drifted down her throat from her chin to rest so the pad of his thumb was pressed over her windpipe.

“Are you going to be quiet?” he murmured in her ear when he pulled back and pulled her head slightly so he could drag his teeth along her neck.

“Y-yes,” she moaned when he dug his teeth into the hollow of her neck. It was going to bruise. She bit her lip and pushed her hips out. “Please. Please, Kieran.”

“Please what?” he asked grinning as he stood up straight and skimmed his hands down her body until they rested on the buckle of her pants.

“Please fuck me.”

That was all the invitation he needed.

He got her belt off in a few quick motions and her pants in one, leaving her to shiver as he dragged his nails over her thighs before adding her soaked underwear to the pile. She was leaking, dripping enough when he brushed his fingers between her folds he came away with enough of her to savor. She wasn’t bad.

Still, she whined and spread her legs for him.

Not one to keep a lady waiting he pulled his suspenders off and unbuckled his pants. He did not remove them. He only slid them down enough he could slip himself free. He was already hard, twitching, still, he gave himself a few strokes before pulling her out enough by the hips she was resting on the edge of the desk before sliding himself in.

He got fairly deep with the first try.

Enough that Kym whimpered out a moan and he could barely suppress him own.

“Keep quiet or I’ll stop,” he scolded her.

And she did, biting her lip as he began to move, slow at first, languid, dragging it out with shallow thrusts that left her arching her lips for more, until he buried himself in her. Then he fucked her for real. They were deep and fast and when he felt her legs start to tremble, he stopped.

She was shivering. “Wh-what? Why did you stop?”

By way of answer, he pulled out, pulled her hips off the desk so she fell against him before flipping her over and pushing her back against the desk. He braced her hips against the wood so she couldn’t move before pulling the shirt over her head, so her head was free ripping it at the collar in the process. He added it to the pile before grabbing her hair and pulling her back against him. She shivered as he ran his hand along her chest and cupped a breast before unbuckling one of his suspenders and putting it in her mouth.

“If you can’t be quiet bite this,” he hissed as he nipped her ear.

Kym nodded her legs shaking.

“Good girl,” he said as he pushed her back down. “Now scream for me.”

With that, he spread her legs and slid back in.

She’d almost been at an orgasm when he’d pulled out so in now time at all she was shivering, shaking, and collapsing around him. She screamed into the suspending and it only did so much to muffle her. Her legs collapsed, but braced against the desk and his hardness she didn’t move and he just kept fucking her.

A while later, late enough that her vision had darkened and she was sure to be sore and bruised, he pulled out came across her ass.

She thought he was done, but no, if she wanted jealousy he could manage more.

He pulled her up and pushed her, her legs like jelly into the metal bookcase of the archive. She heard some files fall but didn’t worry about them as being shoved against the metal was what startled her. Kieran lifted one of her legs and she took his drift pleased to no longer be standing as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held onto the shelf above her with her arms.

He fucked her like that for what felt like hours. Eventually, she couldn’t hold her arms up and they fell on his shoulders and gathered up his hair. At some point, she lost the suspender and she was screaming loud enough she surprised even herself bur she could barely remember.

She remembered warmth though as it filled her. He didn’t pull out the second time and instead filled her. She didn’t remember much after that.

She didn’t remember him lowering her to the ground, leaving her there, cum dripping out of her with her clothes piled at her feet in the locked archive.

He’d taken the suspender though.

It might have been hours that she was out. It was hard to tell in the dark of the archive when she woke cold, and sore, and thoroughly satisfied. She dressed, leaning against the bookcase as she did since she barely trusted her legs. Every time she moved more dripped out of her shivered as she left the archive. Her hair was a mess, her shirt was ripped, and her lips were a deep red and puffy. And she was going to think about this all day.


	2. What's one more drink?

Kym was bored out of her mind. Lauren was once again busy with some mystery project that consumed most of her free time (not that she’d had much, to begin with, but she was still available to hang out occasionally) and Will had a family emergency (not that she wanted to hang out with him either). So she was alone, and bored, and tired from work. They’d made an arrest earlier that day during patrol so there had been so much paperwork. She could see it replaying behind her eyes now and just the thought exhausted her.

She wanted a drink. Normally she would go to a bar with Lauren, not that she was much of a drinker. Lauren wanted to keep her wits about her, as she told Kym, but Kym was sure it was just that Lauren was incapable of relaxing. She could be fun sure, but relaxed, that would be a cold day in hell.

It was a cop bar, frequented by off duty officers like her on their way to pick up a drink on their way home to their wives. It was always busy, but she managed to get a place at the bar. It was mostly men, as per typical but there were a few collections of women in booths off to the side nursing drinks while they chatted with their friends.

She tried to ignore them.

She ordered a drink and waited as she scanned the bar again. Further down the bar, against the wall, was another woman she didn’t recognize but she both did and did not look out of place. The confidence and magmatism that radiated off her made her look as though there was nowhere she would feel out of place, but she was too beautiful for a bar like this. Though the griminess didn’t seem to infringe on her dark jacket nor the light dim the rose of her hair. She was drinking a martini and it didn’t seem to take any of her lipstick off on the rim.

Kym realized she was staring when honey-colored eyes met her and she realized the woman was giving her the slightest hint of a laugh as she took another drink. Kym tore her eyes away to her own drink that had arrived and drank heavily, enough she coughed at the bitterness of it.

‘I came here for a good time and I’m being laughed at,’ she complained into the bar as she swung around to face the room again. Maybe she should just go home. Have the drink, get some watermelon on the way home to nurse her feelings, and then go to bed. She was already so exhausted.

Noise to her right, and the shrinking of the women in the booth, drew her attention back to the corner of the bar where the woman was sitting. She wasn’t the only person who noticed she was too good for this bar. An officer, emboldened by the drink as much as his friends, was badgering her. She didn’t seem frightened as many a shrinking violet might. In fact, despite the tightness of the smile on her lips, her eyes were a kind of cold that barely registered him as human. Still, he was loud, and upsetting other patrons when she politely turned him down.

“What?! Too good for us? We keep the peace you know!” he slurred at her who kept her composure despite how annoying she seemed to find him.

“Sir, you’re not the kind of company I’m looking for,” she said musically.

That seemed to upset him more and Kym caught his hand before it made contact. Perhaps her own drink had emboldened her.

“The lady asked you to leave her alone, sir,” she whispered dangerously in his ear.

He wrenched his hand free and turning his attention to Kym to shoved her back so she collided with another seated patron who voiced their displeasure.

“Mind your own business. I was talking to the lady.”

Getting shoved didn’t hurt. Getting jostled hurt a bit more. “And I don’t think she’s interested in talking with you.”

He didn’t answer with words but with fists. Kym’s drink had not so sufficiently overcome her as to impair her mobility, so she was easily able to move out of the way, unluckily for the patron she had been pushed against. He took the blow to the side of the face, unaware, but startling to the man who had started this. He was startled more when the seated patron hit him back. The friends of the man who had attempted to woo the lady joined in, as did the men seated with the other patron and it became a brawl. The bartender, a long-time owner, and accustomed to this kind of tomfoolery called at them to stop, but didn’t pull the gun full of blanks from under the bar until one of the men picked up a chair to rain it down on another man. Then he fired it. That got the attention of the bar.

“You,” he said gesturing to the lot of them, “Get out. You’re banned for the month.”

The man set down the chair and implored, “But sir—”

“Get out of my bar.”

Dirty looks were thrown and chairs where kicked but the lot of them trooped out letting the bar take a collective sigh of relief.

“Drinks on the house,” the bartender called, and the bar cheered returning once again to the bustle of chatter that had been going on before the ruckus.

Kym realized she was still standing next to the women when she felt a soft cool hand against her arm and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Oh! Of course!” she said blushing when she realized she was still touching her.

“Sit with me,” the woman said gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

Kym obliged and took a seat before her drink arrived.

“So what’s my hero’s name?” the woman asked leaning on the bar to fix her with a piercing gaze.

Kym swallowed from her drink. “I uh—Kym.”

“That’s a lovely name, for a lovely woman.”

“Oh,” she said as a heavy blush spread over her cheeks. “No. I’m not—you’re who’s beautiful—what’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.”

The woman laughed before offering Kym her hand. “Belladonna.”

She had such long fingers.

Kym took them in her own and before she could stop herself brought them to her lips. She wanted to be suave, to impress her, instead, she immediately felt like an idiot.

“I’m sorry I—”

“No,” Belladonna said looking almost amused. “You’re alright. I can admire boldness.”

Kym wanted to die. Curl up and die under the bar where she wouldn’t have to see anyone. Goodbye her parents. Goodbye her friends. Her useless ass had just embarrassed herself enough she needed to go away for a while.

“You’d said you hadn’t seen me before. Do you come here often?”

Kym was dying for anything, anything at all else to talk about. She was still holding her hand. Belladonna hadn’t pulled it back.

“It’s near the precinct so yes.”

“You’re an officer?” Belladonna said her eyes lighting up.

Kym would do anything to see her smile. She beamed with pride as she said, “I’m the lieutenant of the 11th precinct.”

Belladonna leaned on the bar and smiled at her. “That’s an important job I’m impressed. It must be hard.”

Kym shrugged. “Sometimes. The paperwork’s a bore and chasing down criminals can be hard, but I like catching bad guys.”

“It sounds exciting. Who’s your favorite person you’ve arrested?”

Kym plumbed the depth of her brain and blushed when she realized Belladonna was tracing patterns in the palm of her hand.

“Probably Anslow. He was already tied up and blindfolded but I’ve never seen anyone so scared.”

“That was one of Lune’s arrests wasn’t it.”

Kym nodded and though she didn’t want to she pulled her hand away to take a drink.

Belladonna frowned but let the hand move to rest on Kym’s knee. She noticed.

“Yes. The last one before the tower.”

“Where the Purple Hyacinth killed everyone,” Belladonna added trying not to sound as bitter as she felt.

Kym heard the bitterness and heard regret. “We’ll catch him.”

“Him?”

“The Purple Hyacinth.”

Belladonna removed her hand to take a drink and hide her grin. “I wasn’t aware the police knew the assassin was a he.”

“One of our officers saw him when we went to investigate a double murder a few months ago.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

Kym shook her head. “He banged her up pretty good and I’m surprised he didn’t kill her.”

“Is she alright?”

“Oh she’s fine,” Kym said pleased to talk about Lauren but getting a little jealous at the attention Belladonna was showing. “But I’ve been in worse scrapes than that.”

Belladonna could hear the jealousy and it showed in her teeth.

“What about the Golden Viper? I’ve heard they’re deadly.”

Kym shook her head. “We don’t know much about them. They’re just like Lune. A mystery.”

Belladonna frowned. “That’s a pity. But the police must know something, about Lune I mean.”

“Not really,” Kym said bitterly as she felt Belladonna lean in closer to her. It was hard to focus on her story. “They uh—just leave a packet of evidence.”

“Surely the police must have some idea,” Belladonna said as she moved her knee against Kym's. “Or at least you do.”

“I uh—well—maybe they’re a police officer.”

“Why?”

“The evidence is so well laid out.”

Belladonna hummed and leaned back enough that Kym could take a breath, and a drink. She gulped enough down that she finished it in one go.

“Wow, you must have been thirsty.”

“I’m parched,” she blurted out as she stared at Belladonna’s lips.

She seemed to notice and leaned in, Kym leaned in too, before she leaned past her on the bar and flagged down the bartender. “Let me get another for you then, kitten.”

Kym lit up like a Christmas tree. Belladonna smelled amazing.

When the bartender arrived Belladonna pulled back and looked at Kym over her shoulder. “What are you having?”

You if I’m lucky, she thought and promptly smacked herself for thinking she had a chance with this woman. “I’ll uh…have what you’re having.”

That got a smile, before Belladonna turned back to the bar and said, “Another martini, please. Dry

“Coming right up,” the bartender said and went away, and Kym was glad because suddenly it was very warm.

It was late enough that a band had arrived, and music started to fill the small space so they had to huddle closer together to be heard. Kym didn’t mind.

“So, what do you do?”

“I work in imports.”

“Like at the docks?”

Belladonna shrugged slightly. “Sort of.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“It’s not.”

Their drinks arrived and they fell into a companionate silence. But Kym hated silence so after a few minutes she asked, “Do you want to dance with me?”

“But what about our drinks?”

Kym glanced at them. “I’ll finish them.”

So three drinks under her belt Kym lead Belladonna out to the dance floor and began to dance with her. She had remarkable rhythm and a way with her hips, but that’s not what mattered to her, she just loved the way her body felt against her.

When they were tired, and sweaty they dragged themselves away from the dance floor and stumbled up to the alley. Kym had put away another drink and it burned in her face as she leaned against the wall savoring the cold air.

She looked over and saw Belladonna leaning against the wall, fanning herself with her hand and she couldn’t help herself. She leaned over, cupped her cheek, and kissed her. It was a drunk kiss, clumsy and wet and she pulled back as quickly as she had.

“I’m sorry I—”

But Belladonna grabbed her by the hair and pulled her in again. This time it was intentional, deep, and insistent. When she pulled back she was breathless and Belladonna took the opportunity to sink her teeth into the hollow of Kym’s neck.

She moaned before Belladonna whispered in her ear, “Come back to my place.”

It was a short taxi ride that Kym remembered none of. She remembered hands in her hair, between her legs, and lips on hers. She wanted, was desperate for more.

The apartment was small but well furnished.

Coats were abandoned at the door on the way to the couch. Shirts came next, Kym’s tossed rather than unbuttoned, while Kym had to help Belladonna out of hers. She undid each metal hook before adding the corset to the pile sliding her hands over her curves admiringly.

Belladonna tried to send Kym down first, but even drunk Kym still had her wits about her. She maneuvered Belladonna onto the couch before dropping herself between her spread legs.

That seemed to annoy Belladonna much less.

Kym quickly undid her belt before slowly pulling Belladonna’s pants off, and panties along with it.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured as she took her in.

“I am.”

Kym kissed her in the growing wetness between her legs while Belladonna arched her back.

“Oh, kitten.”

Emboldened Kym grabbed her hips and buried her face between her thighs. She lapped at her slit, until she found her clit. She could tell because Belladonna grabbed a fist full of her hair. She lavished attention on it, caressing and stroking it with swirls and mummers until she felt Belladonna’s thighs tightened around her and all hope she had of breathing was lost, just downing in her.

When she came Belladonna squirted into Kym’s mouth with a moan that woke her neighbors.

Kym swallowed it all with pride even rubbing her face and licking her fingers to savor the last of it.

Seeing this Belladonna grabbed her chin and pulled her up to taste herself of Kym’s lips and Kym was eager to please.

When she was done with her Belladonna pulled her to her feet. “Come with me.” She then led her to a lavish bed before pushing her down and crawling over her.

Lips found each other as did teeth and hands until Kym ran her hands down Belladonna’s back and she grabbed them and held them over her head. “Hold this won’t you, kitten,” she purred.

Kym nodded not trusting her response.

Belladonna left her there before she returned with cord, a switch, and the thickest strap Kym had ever seen. She was delighted to try it.

“Since you’re so eager I’ll have you first,” Belladonna purred as she straddled Kym’s hips and corded her wrists before lashing them to her bedpost.

She smiled.

Kym was in heaven.

Free now to explore her without interruption Belladonna moved back between her legs as she nipped down her body. She paid special attention to her breasts cupping them and flicking the small beads before soothing with her soft lips.

By the time she got to her slit, Kym was already leaking a pool that would stain the bed.

“Naughty girl,” Belladonna said as cupped her vagina and slid two fingers easily inside her. “I’m going to make you lip this up.”

Kym cried and arched her hips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Mistress,” Belladonna corrected as she scissored her fingers.

“Yes, mistress. Anything for you.”

She wasn’t sure if Belladonna blushed but she certainly started to work her.

When she begged for more Belladonna stopped and adjusted to donning the strap. Then they started for real.

It hurt at first. Adjusting to the size was a slow process but she was slick, and eager to please, so soon enough Belladonna had sunk deep enough in that she rubbed against Kym. It was slow strokes at first, to keep from hurting her, then harder, quicker. She didn’t stop when Kym screamed. She didn’t stop when she begged that she couldn’t take anymore. She stopped when Kym was quivering and barely conscious.

But that’s what the switch was for. A few quick strikes draped across her nipples and stomach and she was back, with it, and utterly disorganized.

“Are you going to lay there all night or are you going to fuck me?” Belladonna asked as pulled out another toy and sunk it into Kym enough that she had something to work with.

Kym wasn’t sure when her hands had been freed.

She sat up and Belladonna let her roll her over until she was lounging in the pillows.

Kym hiked her legs up around her waist before maneuvering her rubber dick inside.

The sounds Belladonna made. She wasn’t quiet. If her neighbors weren’t awake they would be now.

When Kym leaned down to kiss her, she dug her nails into her back. She was sure she took flesh, made her bleed, but she didn’t stop.

“Kym, Kym, you are—” Belladonna started but didn’t finish before she did.

Exhausted Kym collapsed beside her before pulling out the toy and setting it on the bed.

“You’re going to have to clean that up,” Belladonna murmured her eyes half-closed.

“Anything,” Kym said before she fell asleep. She snored softly in her sleep.

Belladonna lounged there for a while until the blush faded.

Kym really did look like a kitten in sleep, curled up over the top of the blankets. She was drooling. Disgusting. But oddly sweet. She’d rarely met a woman so enthusiastic towards her. Plenty of men, but they were easy and boring. She was honestly considering having her again. Besides, she wasn’t tight-lipped.

Belladonna pushed the thought away as she got up to clean her toys. She was tired too, and she didn’t stay beautiful but not sleeping.

The next morning as sun streaming in through the window Kym shivered. She started when she realized the bed she was in was too soft, and when she opened her eyes she realized this wasn’t her room. Slowly, part of the night came back to her until her eyes settled on the woman next to her.

Belladonna had gotten under the covers she was warm, and hearing stirring had slowly opened her eyes at Kym.

“Oh, you're awake.”

“Yes,” Kym said, a heavy blush setting in, “I am.”

Belladonna grinned and leaned up to pull her into a kiss.

Kym relished it and went to roll over her before Belladonna stopped her.

“You still owe me for cleaning the sheets.”

“My tongue is ready.” Stupid.

“I’m sure it is.”

Belladonna got up then and went to her closet to grab a robe.

“Strip the bed.”

“Yes, mistress,” Kym said and did as she asked. She put the pile in the hamper before collecting her clothes and dressing.

Belladonna had left her alone while she did so. She was in the other room making coffee but she could still see her.

When Kym came out she handed her a black cup.

Kym drank it even though she would normally have put cream in it.

“I…could we do this again…sometime.”

Belladonna finished her cup and put it in the sink. “Maybe.”

Kym could take a maybe. “Cool. I mean—I look forward to seeing you—how would I get ahold of you?”

“You know where to find me.”

Kym nodded enthusiastically and finished her coffee.

“Have everything?”

Kym checked her pockets. “Yes.”

“Good. I called you a cab.”

“Oh. Thank you…well…I’ll see you.”

“Goodbye, kitten.”


	3. Getting Over It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will and Dylan get drunk at a bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some dub-con. Be advised.

Will had promised himself he wouldn’t get drunk, but that was two drinks ago, and he was already halfway through his third. It was becoming a habit, drinking, and he brushed off the troubling signs, like he tried to brush off everything else. He was a competent officer, trusted at work, responsible for everything, provider of his home, fixer of problems. What was a couple drinks a couple times a month, alone, in a bar in Greychapel where no one knew his family or him from work might stumble in and need something, where he could just not have to worry for a couple of hours. Was that too much to ask?

He should just go home. The drinks weren’t helping his mood, and lord help him if he left his mother alone for one night what kind of disaster might await him. He’d hired competent nurses for a reason, but even then he had to take days off. Hermann had noticed and pulled him into his office last month and he’d been scolded, exactly like he was going to get scolded for having no real starting place for Lune.

That was a lie though. He had an idea. And he buried it like everything else because if he didn’t think about it, he didn’t believe it, she couldn’t tell that he was lying.

He was fine.

Honestly.

God, Lauren. What was he going to do about that? And Kieran White. He wasn’t sure what was going on between them but it was something. He wouldn’t have punched him for nothing, and if he hadn’t been surprised he might have hit him back. No. He wouldn’t have. He was responsible, and in control. An officer doesn’t punch a civilian.

Kym was trying to set them up. What was he going to do about Kym? He was going to have to work with her constantly now and already he could feel the stress lightening his already fair hair. She was going to drive him insane. Thank god she was busy tonight.

Will finished his drink and tapped it indicating he’d like another.

The bartender came over and took it from him. “Are you sure you want another one?”

He nodded.

The man sized him up.

“A girl?”

Will nodded and the man lumbered away.

While he waited the door opened, chimed, and in stepped a man. He pulled off his cap to expose a mess of white hair, a broken nose, and a day old bruise around his eye. He spoke to no one but went to the bar and ordered a drink.

Will could sympathize.

“I hope you got a few hits in,” he called, his own bruised healed now except the faintest touches of yellow.

The man looked up from the drink he’d been given and gave him a half-hearted smile. “I tried.”

Will’s own drink arrived, and he gestured for the new man to join him. Maybe misery with company would be better.

Relief showed on the man’s face as he walked over and drew up a seat beside will at the bar.

“A girl?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. We were friends when we were kids and I just got back in town, and a went to go see her and she’s with one of my…a guy I used to know, and he’s going to hurt her and she doesn’t know.”

“That sucks. Did you talk to her?”

The man laughed sadly. “I doubt she’d want to see me. We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“But you love her.”

“Yeah,” he said as he used a four-fingered hand to bring the drink to his lips. “What about you? A girl?”

Will sighed. “Amongst other things. I’m pretty sure she’d with another guy, and I don’t know what he’s like but I don’t trust him.”

The man reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “Cheers. Maybe things work out for both of us.”

“Cheers,” Will said, and slammed down half his drink as if it could choke down his problems.

“Can I get you another one?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Will said brushing the offer off. His face was burning, and honestly, he felt great, the perfect amount of not giving any kind of a fuck.

The man shrugged. “So work then?”

Will laughed. “A massive pain in the ass.”

“Where do you work?”

“APD,” he said staring into his cup. “I’m the Sergeant of the 11th District’s patrol unit.”

“Ow.”

“Ow, indeed,” he muttered before finishing off his drink. “You know what I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He got a smile for that. “Sure,” he said and called the bartender over.

He couldn’t hear what he said. Hell, he could really hear anything and it felt amazing.

“What do you do?” he asked finally.

The man’s face got dark for a moment, and with the broken nose and bruise, he looked like a fighter. “I…work odd jobs. Normally a lot of freelance photography.”

“I bet that brings you to all kinds of dark places.”

“No worse than an officer.”

Will laughed. “Touché.”

They settled into silence as the drink arrived and Will sucked it down greedily.

“So, do you come here often?”

Will shook his head and regretted that choice. “Sometimes. I bounce around.”

“Ever been to the Grim Goblin?”

“No,” Will said. “Why? Is it good?”

“No,” he said. “It’s awful. Awful drinks.”

Will nodded. “Then why did you ask?”

“It’s near here.”

“Are you asking to go?”

“No. I—never mind. Don’t worry about it. How’s the drink?”

Will wrinkled his brow but it was hard to think about it too hard. His face burned and he could feel it all the way down into his neck. It felt good. “Good. Want one?”

“Sure.”

Will flagged down the bartender and ordered. “I’m sorry I haven’t asked you your name.”

“Dylan.”

Like Dylan Rosenthal, like Lauren’s friend, the one she was so focused on, so dedicated to finding she’d joined the police.

Will pushed the image of Lauren away.

“I’m Will.”

“Nice to meet you, Will.”

“You too.”

Eventually, Will’s drink was gone, and he got to his feet. “I’m going to go take some air.”

Dylan nodded. “Are you going to be alright, officer?”

Will shrugged. He was always alright. Still, he paid. Just to be sure.

Outside the air felt cool unlike the stifling heat of the bar. He took off his jacket and unbuckled the first few buttons of his shirt before mussing his hair and leaning against the bar wall in the alley. It was dark there. He liked the darkness. It didn’t hurt his eyes. It didn’t overwhelm him.

He heard the door open and his eyes slid to the door. Dylan, had come out, probably to check on him. He was so nice. He hoped he’d be happy with his girl.

Dylan still had his coat on and Will was surprised he wasn’t sweltering. Will certainly was as he stepped between his legs and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead before pushing it up into his hair.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

Dylan was close enough he could feel his body heat coming off him, still, he was surprised when Dylan cupped his cheek and kissed him.

He was shocked at first and lifted his hands to try and push him off, but Dylan pushed him back into the wall, his knee between his legs, his hand holding head still as his tongue drove it.

He couldn’t breathe, but it felt good. This felt…good. Was he grinding on him? Holy shit was he hard.

Dylan pulled back and in the dark of the alley, his whole face was shadowed. “Has anyone told you you’re an attractive man, officer?”

“No,” Will said breathlessly.

“They’re missing out,” Dylan said as he reached out and unbuckled Will’s pants.

Holy shit what was he doing. Oh, holy shit he was doing this.

Dylan went down to his knees, and pulled Will already at half-mast out of his boxers. He gave him a few quick strokes before spitting into his hand and looking up at him.

They were in an alley. He was a police officer. They could be seen. He was straight.

Dylan took his head into his mouth and Will didn’t care about any of that at all.

He ran his tongue over the head, played with the ridge before sinking down on him. He wasn’t as sure what happened then, but it felt good. He realized he was moaning then and stuck his fist in his mouth and bit hard enough he could taste blood. It got a laugh that he felt as a rumble around his dick. His hand shot out then and grabbed a fist full of Dylan’s hair as he buried himself in his mouth.

He came in him, and let go as soon as he did, so Dylan could cough and wipe the sperm from his lips.

“I’m sorry are you alright.”

Dylan laughed. “I’m fine. Come back to my hotel, Will.”

You know what, why not at this point.

He nodded his assent, and Dylan stood up and slipped him back into his pants. He kissed him too. Will didn’t try and push him off.

He was unsteady on his feet as they walked to Dylan’s hotel that was surprisingly close.

The Lonely Traveler’s Inn.

When they got to his room, Dylan dropped him on the bed and helped him out of his clothes, before taking off his own.

He was remarkably well built and scarred like he’d been tortured with old and new scars.

Dylan crawled over him and pressed him to the bed before taking something out of the bedside table that he couldn’t see. He recognized it though as he poured it into his hands. Lube.

What did he need lube for—oh!

He felt Dylan slide a finger into him and he gasped.

Dylan laughed. “Relax.”

He couldn’t. It hurt.

Dylan sunk another finger in and he almost screamed.

“God, you’re so tight. Have you never had anal sex?”

“No I’m not—” Gay he finished inside but Dylan seemed to understand.

“Oh,” Dylan said slowly pulling his fingers out leaving Will with a burning feeling of emptiness. “Well in that case.”

He watched as Dylan ripped open a condom pack with his teeth and roll it down on his slowly hardening dick. Oh, he was going to have sex with a man. He should stop.

Dylan used his slicked finger to spread his own hole before mounting Will, and he watched as he buried himself inside him.

He didn’t remember a whole lot after that.

The next morning he woke up to an unfamiliar sun and a throbbing headache. His whole body ached, and was bruised, and his ass ached.

Where was he?

He remembered the bar. The drinks. A man with a bruise. He’d gone outside and he’d…oh. Oh. It came back in bits and pieces as Will looked up and saw in the mirror his neck was littered with hickeys and his he looked like a mess.

The room was a mess too, and his partner for the evening was gone.

Will got up and checked himself and he felt, sticky. He showered and as he tried to recall last night he felt…satisfied, not stressed for the first time in a while.

He found his clothes in a pile on one of the chairs with a hotel card with the words “Dylan” and a number written on it.

He held the card between his fingers and went to rip it before stopping and instead put it in his wallet. Maybe he’d call him again.


	4. And Then There Was Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens and those one shots were not an unconnected as originally thought.

Exhaustion and sore muscles were doing wonders for Belladonna’s mood as she shouldered her groceries to finish the last stint of the bridge before she made her way home. The 11th district made for a bit of a walk but they had been groceries, better wine, she longed for the bottle poking out of her bag, and they were cheaper than the poor fair she might find near her home. Besides, it made her feel fancy, and she enjoyed that. It made it worth the trouble.

She was tired though. Work had been a chore and she wanted to lounge in her tub, sip her drink, and let the warm water soak her troubles away.

Her stomach growled and she frowned. What she wasn’t looking forward to was standing over her cramped stove trying to prepare some kind of meal to complement this outing.

As she pondered what would require the least amount of effort, she heard her name over the whistle of the wind. It was her first name, and no one, especially not on this side of town called her that. She stopped and scanned the bridge. Perhaps exhaustion was making her hear things.

She took a few more steps.

“Belladonna!” she heard, insistent and breathless, accompanied by a hand on her arm.

She whipped around nearly dropping her groceries as she reached for her knife, only to come face to face with the young officer from the bar, Kym. She looked out of breath, and her face was heavy with a blush that could not all be attributed to exertion. She quickly reached out and steadied the bag on Belladonna’s hip before taking it from her. “I’m sorry I surprised you,” she panted. “I saw you get on the bridge and I’d been calling out to you…I wanted to say hi. I’d missed you.” She was looking at her with such unnerving earnestness that Belladonna felt the blood rise in her cheeks.

She’d never felt such disarming charm before. She didn’t know what to do with it. How could she have missed her? It was only the once, weeks ago, and sure she herself and considered going back to the bar several times since, always telling herself she was too busy to do so, but still how could she be so enamored to not only remember her name but chase her across the bridge for just the chance to speak with her? What a silly, beautiful, delightful officer. What would she do with her? Fuck her senseless if she had any say in the matter.

Kym’s lips parted in a smile begged to be kissed.

“Going shopping?” Kym asked lifting the bag.

“Coming home, actually,” Belladonna said reaching for the bag before Kym held the bag away. Seems she was determined to be gallant and carry it for her. Without the weight of the bag, Belladonna’s shoulder’s relaxed, and she easily fell in step beside Kym. Her own shoulders must hurt though. Perhaps she’d rub them for her. Perhaps Kym would join her in the tub.

“You cook?” Kym asked awkwardly. Seems she hadn’t planned on what to say to her once she caught up. It was oddly charming.

“Unless I plan on starving, yes.”

Kym flushed and Belladonna laughed.

“Do you cook, kitten?”

The flush grew and never in her life had Kym wished she was a talented chef. “No…I mean yes…I mean I can but I’m not good at it,” Kym stuttered. “Not really.”

Belladonna frowned a little and sighed. “That’s a pity.”

“I’d cook for you though,” Kym said earning a slight smile she treasured.

“What makes you think I want to eat your food?”

Kym stopped suddenly and Belladonna had to stop as well to turn and face her. “Oh. I…I’m sorry,” Kym said, “Am I being a bother?”

No. You’re a delight.

She’d hurt her feelings hadn’t she. No, she hadn’t meant to do that.

Belladonna closed the gap between them and used her thumb to brush the crease out from between Kym’s brow. “No,” she said as she let her fingers drift down to her chin. “I…want to try your cooking some time. Just not tonight. It’s late. Get dinner with me.”

Kym flushed, and nodded. “Where?”

Belladonna hummed considering what might be open this late at night. Besides, she was tired. “Mm. Have you been to the Grim Goblin?”

“No,” Kym said shaking her head.

Belladonna quirked her lip. “The drinks are awful, but the food is good.”

“I would love to go with you.”

\---

With the food sufficiently stored away, Kym made her way with Belladonna to the bar in question. It wasn’t far from her home, down a few streets, around some corners. It seemed everything in Grey Chapel was close by, and Belladonna navigated it like it was her second home. It’d surprised Kym the first time, her living in Grey Chapel. She’d assumed she’d live in the 11th or 8th district the way she carried herself, but she lived alone, and Kym knew how expensive rent could be. It was why she still lived with her parents.

The bar itself was unassuming, and not so densely populated that when they stepped in a silence didn’t descend over the bar. Though that was most likely because of who’s company Kym was in. All the eyes, men’s eyes, were on Belladonna as she removed her coat to expose the low cut and tightly fitting top underneath. Belladonna seemed to ignore them, and Kym was glad for that.

She fixed her with the most perfect smile and said, “Should we find a seat?”

Kym nodded, not trusting her words, before she turned and scanned the bar. Eventually, she settled on a set of empty seats next to a mess of black hair she recognized.

“Kieran?” she asked tentatively as she walked over to the table.

Kieran looked up from his drink, surprise on his face, before he said, “Kym? What are you doing here?” Was that concern in his voice?

He looked different without his glasses, more handsome. The clothes he was wearing fit him better too, a deep cut shirt, and a jacket with gloves that covered his hands and wrists.

“Getting something to eat with me,” Belladonna said before Kym could answer, resting a hand on Kym’s hip. “I didn’t know you knew Kieran.”

Kym blushed at the casual affection. “He works as an Archivist at the precinct.”

“Does he?” Belladonna said her gaze only briefly sliding to Kieran, but Kym caught the hint of a glare from him.

“I started recently,” he said, getting up, his drink half-finished but prepared to be abandoned.

Belladonna moved quickly stepping between Kym and Kieran and resting a hand on his shoulder that forced him back into his seat. “How did I not know this? Have you been keeping secrets?” she asked teasing in her voice, but her grip showed it was anything but that. “You don’t mind us sitting with you, do you? I want to catch up. Seems I’m out of the loop.”

Kieran’s hand rested over hers, and Kym blushed at how comfortable they looked like that. He leveled a barely concealed glared at Belladonna before glancing over her shoulder at Kym and sighing. “Fine.”

Kym didn’t like how long Belladonna leaned against Kieran before stepping back and gesturing Kym into the seat between the two of them. She took it gladly giving Kieran a questioning look.

He wouldn’t acknowledge her, and she was a little hurt.

“So…uh…how do you two know each other?” Kym asked after a beat of silence.

Belladonna tilted her head to Kieran letting him field that question.

He narrowed his eyes at her before regarding Kym with a touch of pity. “We’re…old friends.”

“We grew up together,” Belladonna corrected, and she felt Kieran attempt to kick her but miss.

Just like Will and Lauren.

“How do you know Belladonna?” Kieran asked.

“We…” Kym started but wasn’t sure how to finish.

Belladonna rescued her by saying, “We met at a bar.”

Kieran was smart enough to read between the lines and cocked a look at Kym. “So, you’re not still trying to make Will jealous?”

Kym covered her face with her hand. “Don’t.”

“What is this?” Belladonna asked.

“Kym had asked for my help in making one of her male friends jealous by—”

“Kieran,” Kym begged, and he stopped and sighed.

Belladonna’s eyes shimmered with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. “Oh,” she said, “I see. And should she expect a repeat performance?”

“No,” Kym said quickly, drawing both eyes towards her. “Kieran’s got a girlfriend.”

Belladonna cocked her head and shot a look towards Kieran. “A girlfriend?”

Kieran ground his teeth. “Kym.”

“He’s dating, Lauren, the woman I told you about last time, the one that almost caught the Purple Hyacinth.”

The air went out of the room for a moment, and she could tell if she looked at Kieran his gaze would peel the flesh from her bones, so she didn’t look at him, instead of holding Belladonna’s gaze which was filled with amusement, and buried deep a barely concealed rage.

“Kym,” Belladonna asked, “Would you get something for us to eat?”

Kym nodded as she rose, before Kieran grabbed her hand and roughly tugged her back down into her seat.

“I’ll get it.”

Belladonna reached out and tapped his drink. “No,” she purred. “She’s capable. She can get food just fine.”

Slowly, Kieran withdrew his hand and Kym was able to scurry to the bar.

She wasn’t sure what’d just happened but considering the looks being leveraged her way she could tell she was in danger, but from what. She ordered, something she didn’t remember, before turning to return to the table.

That’s when she saw it. It was barely perceptible behind the bar, but the way the bottles sat, the shadow formed a hood and a scythe, and suddenly several things slotted together to give her the answer to the question building in the back of her mind.

Lauren had been acting odd since her run-in with the Purple Hyacinth a man she described as dark hair, mid-twenties, and with a physique that matched his profession, and Kieran who Lauren had been odd around ever since he’d joined the office. Cold was a courteous word to describe their interactions despite how much he seemed to chase after her. He’d also looked like he would eat her alive when she mentioned the Purple Hyacinth in front of Belladonna who was too keen to know her opinion on the Golden Viper, an assassin barely known or recognized, and Lune, a group Lauren should be much keener to catch than she appeared to be considering she had been to none of the arrests and had vanished after the Purple Hyacinth cleared the tower.

It seemed they’d finished their conversation, or fight, and both glanced at Kym.

Kym considered running, but decided that put her in more danger than staying and playing dumb. Surely, they didn’t know she knew. Hopefully.

Belladonna smiled at her but only now did she notice it never seemed to reach her eyes, while Kieran regarded her with a brilliance, she’d never seen from him before. Oh, they knew. Perhaps their discussion was over what to do with her, how to best kill her, and it was a conscious effort to keep her knees from buckling as she returned to her seat.

What else could she do?

“Are you alright?” Belladonna asked covering the clenched hand Kym had set on the table.

It took effort but Kym was able to not flinch and reestablish a smile on her face.

Before she could answer Kieran stood, the sound of his chair scraping the wood, suddenly painful. How had she not noticed the sword on his waist? “If you’re not feeling well, I’ll walk you home.”

Would I make it home?

Belladonna squeezed her hand and Kym peeled her eyes from Kieran to regard her. She had a hand resting under her chin and just the hint of a smile, but her eyes were just as brilliant, warm instead of cool the way he looked.

“No,” she said finally, turning back to Kieran, “I just ordered. I’m just hungry. That’s all.”

Kieran regarded her for a long moment before he sighed and finished his drink. “Alright then,” he said, “I’ll see you at work.”

“See you,” she said though his gaze had already slipped past her to glare at Belladonna.

“Belladonna,” he hissed coolly as he walked past her.

“Kieran,” she said lacing her fingers with Kym’s before he left.

Kym let out a sigh of relief with him gone, though she doubted she was any safer with Belladonna.

She’d started tracing patterns on her palm and Kym looked up at her a blush forming. Belladonna still had her hand under her chin, but she was studying Kym with a mixture of surprise and concern. “You could have gone with him if you wanted,” she said, and as much as Belladonna’s tone was cool and apathetic her face showed how distasteful she found the idea. If Kym had been in the mood to flatter herself, she might have thought Belladonna was jealous.

“I promised to eat with you didn’t I,” Kym said slowly bringing Belladonna fingers up to her lips.

The blush that spread across Belladonna’s cheeks might have killed her if she wasn’t in danger of the woman doing so herself.

“I..” she started before she stopped herself with a small laugh. “You did, didn’t you. What did you get us?”

Kym stared blankly as she tried to recall, but a quick glance at the wall, and subsequent menu, gave her the answer. “Soup.”

“Soup?” Belladonna asked an amused question in her voice.

“It’s cold outside.”

Belladonna hummed her assent and slowly pulled Kym’s hand over so she could blow on it. “Would you want to come home with me after? Try some of the wine?”

The question carried none of the confidence Kym had seen the last time Belladonna had asked her to come home with her only a raw, almost disarming vulnerability that was enough to get Kym to forget the danger she was in and nod her assent. Though it wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

She would do anything for the smile Belladonna gave her.

\---

The walk back to Belladonna’s apartment felt longer, more a march, than the brief walk it had been to the bar. Perhaps it was the wind that ripped through both of them despite their coats, but it was more likely the other concerns that kept them apart. Even Belladonna who had easily taken Kym’s arm to lead her to the bar now stood apart from her. Maybe she regretted asking her there, but Kym doubted Belladonna held such juvenile regrets.

Belladonna got the lights and threw her coat over the arm of her couch before retreating to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”

Kym’s coat joined Belladonna’s before she sat on the couch. She rested on the lip too uneasy to embrace the warm cushions fully. Still, spread at her legs were, her hips resting on the edge, all she could think of was how it’d felt to be between Belladonna’s legs half-drunk on her. Kym blushed and fell back against the couch surrendering to the inevitable.

Belladonna returned the open bottle in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other. She set both on the coffee table, before sitting, her knees pressed against Kym’s before she turned and poured them both a healthy dose. She offered Kym her glass and it felt so delicate in her hand.

Kym regarded the glass with what she hoped looked like refined taste and not suspicion; Belladonna’s laugh cut the tension.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said as she wiped the mirth from her eyes and picked up her own glass to draw in some of the wine.

Kym’s eyes widened but she slowly took her own sip. It was sweet and dry with a barely detectable hint of fruit.

“You know, don’t you,” Belladonna said as she returned her glass to the table before settling her hands in her lap. Her honey eyes were almost a warm liquid and her smile gave nothing away.

Kym took another sip, and shivered under the intense look Belladonna gave her as she watched her swallow. How to answer that. Honestly? Lie? No. Lying wasn’t going to make this better.

“You’re…the Golden Viper,” she said finally, “And Kieran’s the Purple Hyacinth.”

Belladonna bared her teeth in disgust. “Don’t bring him up.”

“Why?” Kym asked feeling braver than she ought to considering how little wine she’d drank.

Belladonna gave her a quizzical look before scowling. “You fucked him.”

Kym coughed, and flushed at how quickly Belladonna reached out to pat her back, how close she was to her, practically in her lap. “I…so have you.”

Belladonna leaned against Kym’s shoulder, her lips close enough to Kym’s cheek that she could feel it when she laughed. “Sure. And I’ve fucked Dylan Rosenthal, and Ryan Flemmings, and the Messenger, and Tim Sake, and Harvey, and more noblemen than I care to remember the names of,” she purred. “I’m just a bit of a slut.”

All of them were men, Kym realized and though Belladonna wore a smile like armor it was stretched thin enough across her lips that her fangs shone through. How often had the smile never truly reached her eyes? How often had she heard herself called a whore to expect, almost demand, Kym share the sentiment?

Kym reached out, hesitantly, and pulled Belladonna into the lap she seemed to want to be in surprising Belladonna more than the question, “Do you like men?”

Her eyes widened and quickly she stood and stalked off to her bag. She lifted it, searching for a cigarette before she stopped and dropped it. Slowly, she turned and looked at Kym. “Why…would you ask me that?” she said softly before she laughed. “Kym, I’m an assassin. I kill people. I could kill you and that’s what you want to ask me?”

Kym carefully avoided meeting her gaze as she reached out and finished her glass before pouring herself another and topping off Belladonna’s glass. Only then did she look at her. “You…don’t sound happy when you talk about them.”

Belladonna’s arm had found its way around her body, a wall between them, before she laughed. Her whole body shook before she suddenly stopped and raked a hand through her hair. Softly she whispered, “I do…don’t I.”

Kym held up a glass to her and slowly Belladonna walked back over to take it and return to her seat. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” she admitted as her fingers brushed Kym’s before she took the glass. She examined the contents and Kym could feel the heat of the knee pressed against her leg. “No one…cared.”

“I care.”

Belladonna chuckled and swirled her drink before downing the contents. “You do don’t you. Why? Aren’t you afraid of me?”

Kym still hadn’t turned her body to face her only her drink that she held with white knuckles. She’d mentioned Harvey. “You were who killed Harvey.”

Back in topics more comfortable to her Belladonna’s smile grew, cruel and warm, and the brilliance she saw in her eyes when she looked at her she now recognized as the mark of an assassin. Those were the eyes so many had looked into before she’d snuffed them out, if they had been lucky to see her at all.

“Yes,” she purred as she set her drink down and put her arm around Kym’s shoulders.

Kym didn’t flinch, but her skin crawled, her knuckles white on her drink. Rage built in her throat as she recalled Harvey’s face. The horror of it all. She’d seen so many crime scenes, so many deaths, but nothing like that. Still, she knew the game Belladonna was playing, she wanted a reaction, a reason to react, validation for what she thought of herself, and Kym refused to give it to her. So, she calmly finished her drink, though her hand shook. Finally, as evenly as she could she asked, “Why?”

The hand on Kym’s shoulder tightened and Belladonna leaned her head against her shoulder. She was so close. How many men had she played this game with? How many had fallen for it?

“He was a mole,” she said blithely, “He was useless, so I killed him. Do you want to know how he died?”

“No,” Kym snapped, before taking a breath and correcting herself. She had to stay calm. Anger would get her killed. She removed Belladonna’s hand from her shoulder and stood up. “No. I know. I found his body.”

She was surprised Belladonna let her, stand, walk away to the window, where she examined the city. She’d never noticed the view from this side of the river. The 11th district had so many lights. Finally, she asked, “How many?”

Belladonna’s hands had gathered in her lap, and she hadn’t moved from her seat, so she had to look over her shoulder to meet Kym’s eyes. She looked down and away as if trying to decide to tease again, but naivete wasn’t a good look on her. “More than a hundred,” she said, “Less than two. I don’t think I could give you an exact number.”

Kym’s lips grew tight and she looked away and back out the window.

“And kids?”

“Woman too if I’m asked.”

“How?” Kym asked as she reached out and gripped the windowsill before turning to look at Belladonna rage in her eyes. “How could you?”

She was surprised how tired Belladonna looked. She wore a smile, a shape Kym was realizing was where her lips always settled, but she was holding her glass staring into the contents as if they might give her a good answer. “It’s not hard,” she said finally when she looked up at Kym letting her smile widen.

Kym snapped and dropped her hands from the sill. She stalked over to Belladonna who only set her drink down on the table before Kym crowded her against the couch pinning her between her arms. Belladonna’s eyes were brilliant, but her body was perfectly still. Slowly, Kym realized what she was doing and stood back. “You don’t even like the Phantom Scythe,” she said, “How could you?”

Belladonna’s hand whipped out, lightning-fast and pulled Kym down until Kym had to kneel against the couch by the tie. She was choking her, barely, and didn’t seem to care. She hissed. “Just because I’ve fucked you the once, had dinner with you, doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”

Kym covered her Belladonna’s hand as she readjusted herself, so she was comfortably straddling her hips before bringing the hand to her lips.

Belladonna shivered.

“Do you know who else holds their bodies like you do when you talk about the men, you’re with,” Kym said as she turned Belladonna’s hand over to kiss her palm. Belladonna’s eyes were dark with lust. “Beaten wives. You couldn’t care less for the Phantom Scythe so why do you do what they tell you to if they treat you so badly?”

Belladonna shook her hand free and went back to wrapping it around Kym’s throat, she squeezed, barely, before resting her head against Kym’s shoulder. She laughed, soft and hollow, while Kym moved to lace her fingers in her hair.

“I hate you, Kym,” she muttered. “I hate you so much. You’re too smart. You…I like my job. I like killing people. I’m good at it. I like how scared they are and how they run and hide in fear and they look in their eyes before I finally take their life I—I’m not Kieran. I don’t give a shit about my humanity. I’m not dying for something as stupid as morals like Dylan. So, what else would I do, huh? Get a real job? Work as a shop-girl? A slut? At least this pays well. What else would I do? This is all I’ve ever done.”

Kym moved her hand under Belladonna’s chin and lifted it, so she’d look at her. “What if there was no more Phantom Scythe?”

Belladonna shivered at the thought, leaning into Kym’s hand as she considered it. It seemed like this wasn’t the first time she’d considered the option, but now, with help, it seemed more tangible than it had before. “You’re suggesting helping Kieran and Lauren with their Lune investigation.”

She nodded though she wasn’t fond of the reverence Belladonna placed on Lauren’s name. “How do you know they’re Lune?”

Belladonna flipped Kym easily, so she was under her. “I saw them leaving a Phantom Scythe warehouse and Kieran’s a familiar shape. You like Lauren.”

Kym tried to ignore what familiar shape entailed while she covered her face with her hand. “I don’t,” she lied. “But you do.”

Belladonna hummed and Kym laughed. It was a harsh strangled sound that hadn’t yet reached a sob but was straining for it. “Everyone does,” she said. “You, Will, Kieran, everyone. Everyone likes her better. And I wish I could say it doesn’t bother me, because we’re friends, and I know she doesn’t do it intentionally, and I get it, really, I like her too, but it’s everyone. Everyone always likes her first. Everyone likes her better. And no one likes me better. Nobody cares.”

Kym felt the tears running down her cheeks and shivered at the warmth of Belladonna’s lips as she pressed them to the corner of her eyes.

“I do.”

Kym laughed but tangled her fingers in Belladonna’s hair to stop her, so she’d look at her. “You’re a liar.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she whispered before snuffing the words out against Kym’s lips.

Her body arched into her, as she pulled Belladonna down against her. Her mouth was warm and tasted of the wine and cigarettes. Her lips parted easily to allow Kym’s tongue in where it danced with hers. Belladonna ground her hips into Kym’s eliciting a moan barely suppressed by her lips. When they parted Kym panted and flushed as Belladonna leaned her forehead against hers. She could feel her breath against her lips and leaned up to kiss her again before Belladonna pulled back. She kissed her cheek, her neck, nipping as she went, while Kym pulled her hair. Her fingers worked the buttons open of her shirt before she spread her hands across Kym’s collar bone. Only once she had fully marked her neck, Belladonna pulled back and leaned over Kym, her face framed in a curtain of rose hair. “Are you sure you want to like me knowing who I am?”

Kym’s lips were bruised, and she sat up to kiss Belladonna before the other woman pushed her down. So instead she reached up and brushed a hand against her face. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Belladonna kissed the inside of Kym’s wrist before running her tongue over her fingers. “That’s not an answer.”

Kym whined and ground against Belladonna, but she wouldn’t move. “I…I want you, Belladonna, please.”

For the first time, perhaps since she’d met her, the smile was genuine, in her eyes, before Belladonna leaned down and kissed her again. It was fast now, rough, intense, teeth, and tongue, and hands with nails that skated down Kym’s body before reaching her belt.

“No,” Kym whined, “Touch my breasts.”

Belladonna blushed, and Kym grinned to see her chastised. She wrinkled her nose at her before tugging the cups of the simple white bra down to expose the breasts underneath. They weren’t large like Belladonna’s or particularly pretty, so she blushed when Belladonna gazed at them with reverence.

“Oh, you’re beautiful, kitten,” she purred between burying her head in her chest. Her teeth, her tongue, her hands, explored her body, cupping, stroking, swirling, tugging, while Kym whined, her feet searching for purchase on the couch. Belladonna laughed against a nipple she held between her teeth. “If I got you jewelry would you wear it?”

Kym blushed. “Maybe?”

She hummed and kissed her stomach, her hands skating down Kym’s sides until they reached her hips. Kym lifted her hips up and let Belladonna slide her pants and panties free and toss them over the couch. She was already slick; she could feel it against her thighs and moaned as Belladonna ran her fingers between her legs.

“You’re so eager,” she teased before pressing a kiss to the inside of Kym’s thigh.

Kym bit her lip. “You’re…very good at this. But I want to—”

“I want to eat you, Kym,” Belladonna purred sliding a finger into Kym to end the argument.

Kym arched her hips and groaned.

“Now be a good kitten and scream for me.”

She did. She screamed and whimpered as Belladonna buried her face between her legs. She wasn’t satisfied with once, or twice, no she kept her insistent caresses going until Kym was unsure if she would ever be able to stand again. Finally, she took mercy on her and drew her face away so Kym could see how much of a mess she’d made. Belladonna was slick down to her chin her eyes dark and heavy as she grinned at her. Her lipstick was smeared. She looked beautiful.

“You taste like watermelon,” she teased, and Kym laughed.

She sat up, though that was a challenge, and braced herself against the couch. “Let me taste,” she said as she licked her chin, her neck, and Belladonna whined as Kym began to undo the laces on her shirt. Once it was open, she slid her hands around her stomach, up and over her breasts, before Belladonna took her hands and kissed them.

She stood, drawing Kym up and off the couch. “Come on, I have toys to show you.”

Kym followed eagerly.

Presented with the bed she fell into it, face first, and crawled into a comfortable position so her face was buried in a pillow. A nap would be wonderful. She might have drifted off too if Belladonna hadn’t lifted her hips and slid something inside. Kym buried her face in the pillow and moaned as she spread her legs.

She rolled over and was greeted by the beautiful sight of Belladonna, undressed, crawling between her thighs. She lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around her waist, and only then did Kym notice the dildo hanging out of her. She bit her lip as she watched Belladonna slid into herself and groan.

She flashed her a smile when she realized she was awake before grinding against her.

Kym groaned and was relieved to see she wasn’t the only one. Belladonna was blushing, almost the color of her hair.

Belladonna fucked hard. It seemed drowning in pussy had done nothing to dull her appetite, or enthusiasm, and Kym held onto the pillow like it was the last bit of her sanity.

She was beautiful. Stray hairs clung to her forehead, and her breasts swaying with each thrust. Her lips parted to pant and whine, and most glorious of all call her name. She’d bite her lip. Dig her fingers into Kym’s hip so hard she was sure it would bruise. Oh, it would be hard to walk tomorrow but she didn’t care. Anything for her. Anything for the way she looked at her.


	5. Filmed Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan takes a picture of Will causing him to have a panic attack in an alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some heavy themes of internalized homophobia, depression, and light suicidality that I just want to warn you about now.

This had been a mistake. Will’s head throbbed and the sun decorating the foreign sheets did little to persuade him otherwise. He shouldn’t have come over. He had work in a few hours if the alarm clock looming on the nightstand was an accurate representation of the time, but Dylan had sounded so sad last night when he’d called. He couldn’t just leave him after how good Dylan had been about everything when he’d called him the first time. He hadn’t meant to call him at all. He’d intended to let the penned in number fade to time, but then Lucas had come into work announcing Lauren and Kieran’s clandestine encounter, and Lauren hadn’t denied it, and he wanted to be happy for her truly but, why of all people him? He was such an egregious asshole. And he couldn’t talk to Kym about it because she adored Kieran, which just made it worse, and he was lonely, and sad, and tired, and so he’d called Dylan knowing perfectly well that they’d probably end up in bed together again. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Last night Dylan had already had a few drinks by the time Will had gotten there. He’d moved out of the hotel into a month by month rental, fully furnished, near the train station. Will wanted to believe it was because it was more comfortable for him and had nothing to do with a comment, he barely remembered making about how he felt like a cheap whore coming back to Dylan’s hotel. Will could have brought him home. He had a house. He’d never do that. The vest he normally wore was off and Dylan had looked exhausted. He’d invited Will in, offered him a drink. Will could admit he was a conventionally handsome man standing against the doorway, if a bit sad. The girl he was in love with had slept with the man in question and Dylan had the misfortune of seeing it as he went to go and tell her how much he cared for her. He was crushed. The drinks were good, strong, and went down easily, and even though Will had work in the morning, and he knew what happened when he drank with Dylan by now, it didn’t stop him. He could only vaguely recall the taste of Dylan’s mouth, burning alcohol and cigarettes, and how his hands had felt as they opened his belt.

Dylan stirred behind him and Will pressed his eyes closed. He had an hour left to sleep before he needed to get up for work. He was starving though. Maybe he should get up and make them both eggs. Dylan had to have eggs in his fridge, right? Will froze and his heart moved to his throat as Dylan buried his face in Will’s neck. He could feel his breath warming his ear and it tickled. Dylan was certainly enthusiastic this morning and he could feel his hard length pressed against the curve of his ass. Does he want to have sex? Dylan’s hand reached around Will, and he hoped he wouldn’t notice his own morning enthusiasm, but he didn’t. His hand stopped on his hip bone, and slowly it closed into a fist. They laid like that for a moment Will’s heart pounding loud enough he was afraid Dylan would hear it before it seemed Dylan woke up fully. He squeezed him, sighed, and got up taking his hand with him. Will’s skin burned where Dylan had touched, so he almost didn’t notice the tender kiss Dylan placed on his temple. Will focused on the sound of him dressing, probably pulling on pants so he could go smoke, and not the burning of his face and the tightness in his chest.

When Will heard the door close he let out a breath of relief and opened his eyes. What was he doing? He covered his mouth with his hand before sliding it up over his eyes and laughing softly. This was stupid. He was straight. He hadn’t seriously thought Dylan would have sex with him first thing in the morning. He didn’t enjoy the idea. He didn’t enjoy this. Because what would people think of him if he did? How easy would it be to watch his reputation as the perfect, competent, capable, responsible William Hawkes crumble over something so simple? Will bit down a laugh broiling in his throat as he swept his hand up and back through his hair. Dylan had left him water and pain pills beside the bed. How perfect was he? Will rolled onto his back and stared into the ceiling. But he liked Dylan didn’t he, or at least he enjoyed his company. The rest…he pushed it away not to be acknowledged. He could compartmentalize. He was good at that. He had fun with Dylan, and how long had it been since he’d done something fun. Being around him was easy. He didn’t have to worry about what to say, or do. He never felt pressured. How long had it been since things had felt easy?

He’d expected smarm when he’d called him. He’d expected some comment about how lonely he must be to call a man he didn’t even know, didn’t even like, or how desperate he was to fuck again. But he was lonely. The realization hit him like a weight on his chest that threatened to crush him. He was painfully, achingly lonely. All day at work he was the perfect, superior officer, and he went home to an ailing mother who he loved dearly but she was emotionally and physically exhausting. And normally he’d have tried to spend his free time with Lauren, but she was busy as of late. And now he knew why. And he wanted to be happy for her. Lauren deserved to be happy. Despite everything he wanted her to be happy, because she was his friend, and he cared about her. And he knew she didn’t care about him like that. And he’d thought he was fine with it. He wanted to be fine with it, and not jealous, but was she really ok. Funny what getting punched would do to rip open old wounds. And Kym was her own nightmare. He enjoyed her plenty but after work, he was tired and longed for something more subdued. Dylan hadn’t judged his hurt. He hadn’t demanded anything of him, or at least not that he could recall. He’d offered him the drinks he wanted, his ear, his shoulder. Dylan had been genuinely concerned. Will could only hope he’d been half as comforting last night. And what was worse was that wasn’t the only thing they did together. Between the calls, his and Dylan’s, he’d called Dylan, maybe because he was bored, but more likely because he was lonely, and Dylan had met him at the docks, and they’d talked, and thrown rocks at ships like teenagers, something they were both too old and mature for, but it’d been fun. He’d enjoyed Dylan’s teasing. He enjoyed his laugh.

Will traced his hand under the sheets to see how bad the problem was. He considered going to the bathroom, but the long walk felt more exposed than it ought to. He didn’t want Dylan to know, especially if it wasn’t a problem. And it wasn’t yet. If he was at home, he might have handled it with some lotion and dedication, but he didn’t need to. The problem would go away on its own, and—unbidden the image of himself buried in Dylan’s mouth in the alley filled his head. He could feel the warmth of his mouth, and the strength of his tongue. Will gasped and pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to think about it. His hand trembled as he checked himself again and swore when he found he’d grown from the sleepy half-mast of morning to fully erect and twitching with anticipation. Curse his traitorous body. Even if he dressed it would still be noticeable. Would Dylan notice? Would he offer relief with eager hands and a willing mouth? Stop, he pleaded with himself. But wouldn’t it have felt good to have Dylan kiss his neck, reach his hand around to his cock while he ground against Will’s ass and—stop it. Please. Will raked his hands across his face and sighed. His hands curled into fists. Normally he savored the feeling when he masturbated, but he could do it quickly if he had to. He had time, right? Dylan took forever in the morning to smoke, and he wasn’t sure he liked that he knew that. So, it should be fine. But what if it wasn’t. What would his face look like if he came back in and Will was in the middle of pleasuring himself? Would he be surprised? Angry? The blush that would spread in his cheeks. The hunger in his eyes.

Will bit down a moan as he spat into his hand before wrapping it around his shaft. He wasn’t small, in fact, he could still recall Dylan’s soft whistle of appreciation at the sight. Stop thinking about him. Will gave himself a few slow strokes testing the waters. He fit easily in Dylan’s hand, the calluses, he assumed from the camera, had caught the sensitive skin underneath and—no don’t. He might have imagined Lauren, the intense gaze she had for cases falling on him, or Kym’s easy laugh, but they were lost to him at the thought of Dylan’s warmth against him. Will used his other hand to work the edge of glans. He whimpered as he thrust into his hand, stroking ever faster. He needed to be quiet or Dylan would know. He would come in here. He would fuck him. Will shuddered and came with a whine he suppressed by biting down hard enough he could taste blood. Slow shaky pants escaped him as he watched in satisfaction as his cock sank back down against his leg. He whipped himself off with the sheet. He should shower. He could feel his hair stuck to his forehead from the exertion. A blush had spread across his body and he ignored the tightness in his throat.

He must have fallen asleep because he didn’t hear the door open. But the click of the camera, and pop of the flashbulb sent him bolting upright like it’d been a gunshot. Dylan’s eyes were wide in surprise as he pulled his face from behind the camera. His white hair was mussed from sleep and the smell of cigarettes clung to him. It clung to him like last night's pants that hung around his waist, leaving his chest exposed so Will’s eyes could roam. He wasn’t an especially broad man. They had much the same build, and though Will wasn’t a weak man, a policeman needed to pass and maintain physical strength to catch criminals, after all, he lacked the lean cords of muscles on display. Or the scars Dylan had explained away as childhood injuries.

“You’re awake,” Dylan croaked, his throat dry from arousal and surprise. A blush had spread from his cheeks down his chest, and the way he looked at him made Will want to hide from his eyes that reached out like hands.

He found him attractive, didn’t he. That shouldn’t shock Will, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that Dylan might enjoy the way he looked. That he might think of him when he wasn’t here. That he might—was that why he took so long to smoke? Did he masturbate out on the balcony cigarette in hand thinking of Will in his bed? Will’s face burned because what would Dylan think if he knew what he’d done. He almost lost himself to the thought but reeled back when he recalled the girl. Hadn’t there been a girl Dylan had cared for? Hadn’t he just last night called Will heartbroken about it? What was he a rebound fling? Had there ever been a girl at all? Will’s throat tightened. But hadn’t he mentioned her at the bar first? Some girl Dylan was hung up on. But hadn’t he then sucked him off in the alley? And they’d had sex in his hotel room. The memory was lost to time and alcohol. But wouldn’t it just be perfect if there’d never been a girl at all, if she’d been a fabrication, an excuse, a reason for Will to come over, to drink, to do things he didn’t mean, that he regretted. If Dylan was mocking his hurt because he knew Will would be sympathetic. Wouldn’t that just be perfect?

A chill seeped into his voice as he asked, “What are you doing, Dylan?” He’d expected to sound hysterical but somehow his voice sounded calm, and that was worse wasn’t it.

Dylan winced under the intensity of the vitriol laced in his voice and stammered, “I—”

“Give me the picture, Dylan,” Will snapped as he went to slide off the end of the bed towards him but stopped. He was already so exposed, the bare skin above the sheet felt like it was being pricked by hundreds of needles, and if he stood there’d be nothing covering him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be nude in Dylan’s presence considering he was still holding the camera, and earlier, and how his body seemed to be betraying him at the slightest provocation. He doubted it would do him the decency of staying calm if he lunged into Dylan’s space to snatch the camera from him. But he wanted the camera, desperately, violently, to smash it and remove the threat it presented to his person, to the person he thought he was. Will wasn’t violent. He was calm, collected, in control; he wasn’t attracted to men either, and yet what had he been doing maybe fifteen minutes prior. Will buried the thoughts in the sheets he gripped hard enough he was afraid they’d tear. This was yet another chilling revelation to have about himself surrounding Dylan. How quick he’d come to loathe the man.

“No!” Dylan explained, seemly shocked by his own volume as much as Will, as he moved the camera protectively behind him, and stepped back, or rather flinched back. Will would have been almost offended if he didn’t have such an ardent desire to do violence on the man. Feelings broke over Dylan’s face like waves; surprise, fear, longing, and anguish, and finally resolve that set his jaw into a hard line as his shoulder’s relaxed into a manufactured calm. His hold of the camera never slackened. “No,” he said again, this time calmer, but he followed it with a mirthless laugh. “You asked me to take them. I’m just doing what you asked.”

“When did I—" Will began indignation rich in his voice before it faltered. Drunken memories swam back to him in bits and pieces. He could feel Dylan’s weight over him, his lips against his and how bruised they felt when Dylan pulled away, a fullness that almost hurt, and made Will’s face burn when he realized what it was, and Dylan’s eyes, worshipful and bright as he looked down at him. He remembered laughing, like he wanted to do now but he didn’t for fear of it sounding hysterical, and how comfortable and free he sounded. “Come on, Dylan, take a picture it’ll last longer,” he’d teased. Will's teeth ground his teeth hard enough he was afraid they’d crack. “You knew I didn’t mean that,” he said in a soft voice littered with rage. “I know that’s not the only one. Where’s the rest?”

Dylan’s hold on the camera tightened and he looked away.

Will swore under his breath and got up leaving the sheet a tangled pile in his wake.

Dylan startled at the sound and his eyes whipped towards Will.

For a moment they froze, Will naked and pulling an arm over himself protectively, and Dylan drinking him in before he turned away and covered his face with his hand. Will could almost see the blush underneath, as he stalked over to his clothes, folded and waiting for him because of course, Dylan had thought about that too, mindful to keep his spine straight though he could feel himself shaking.

He lifted his boxers and tugged them on before whipping his pants out and donning them as well. He heard a clink to his right and his eyes slid in the direction to see Dylan had set the camera down. He wasn’t looking at him. It wouldn’t be hard to grab it from him. Will finished the buckle of the belt before Dylan asked, “Where are you going?” His voice sounded strained.

“I have work,” Will said without acknowledging him.

“Will, I—” he heard before he felt the heat, and the words closer than they’d been a moment ago. Will turned, damn near tripped in his rush to step back from Dylan who was so much closer than he had been, well within his arm’s reach now. Dylan flinched, before he reached out a hand concern etched on his face.

Will’s back hit the cold drywall and he snapped, “What?” Panic leaked into his voice, and his face, his eyes wide, his jaw set, as Dylan rested the hand he’d offered next to Will’s head, creating a wall between Will and his escape to the camera, before closing the gap between them. He should have run for the camera when he’d had the chance. But no, he’d been too proud to do it before he was fully clothed and still feeling vulnerable. Now he was trapped, and Dylan was standing close enough he could feel himself shaking. He told himself it was rage, not fear, not arousal. This was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid when he got out of the bed, but when did it ever matter what he wanted.

“Will you please listen to me?” Dylan begged as he reached out to touch Will’s face.

Bile rose in Will’s throat and the sound of the slap registered long before the sting in his hand. Dylan looked just as shocked and unprepared when Will snarled, “What do you want the pictures for, Dylan, blackmail?”

Will might have struck him across the face for the way hurt spread across his face. Slowly the hand beside Will’s head balled into a fist and he was afraid for a moment Dylan would hit him. “You think I’m trying to blackmail you?” he choked out. “Are you so desperate to make me the villain?”

Will glared into eyes that could only be that bright if it was a trick of the morning light as he ground out, “I don’t know. I don’t seem to know you that well.”

Dylan startled and pain crossed his eyes. He hung his head and for a moment Will was afraid he’d fall against him. He brought his hands up to help catch him if need be, but Dylan looked up and he was sure it looked as though he’d meant to push him off. So, Dylan stepped back, turning away as he went to retreat to the camera. He picked it up as Will breathed a sigh of relief and collected his shirt. Will stopped for a moment, suddenly hesitant, he’d have sworn it was because he didn’t want Dylan out of his sight while he had the camera in his hand, as he watched Dylan rake a hand through his hair and laugh bitterly. “You really don’t do you,” he muttered more to himself than anyone. Will grit his teeth and tugged his head through his shirt. He didn’t bother to tuck it in.

He’d grabbed his socks when he heard the camera once again settle against the dresser between them against the wall.

“Fine,” Dylan said sounding almost defeated. “I’m blackmailing you.”

Will hated how relieved that made him feel. Because it was easier to stomach the idea that this man wanted something from him than had any genuine kind of affection. Because everyone always wanted something from him, or who he could be, rather than who he was, and why would Dylan be any different. Besides his family was prestigious. He was an excellent target. How many times had people tried to strong-arm him into surrendering his father’s business ventures citing that he seemed to be struggling to manage them? He was drowning and how badly did he want to be free of that yoke but that was all that remained of his father and his mother’s treatment wasn’t cheap. There were only so many objects that might have mattered once to his family he could pawn before someone would notice. And how many times had people come offering exorbitant treatments for his mother than never worked just because they were noble? Why would Dylan be any different? At least it made it easier. He could end it here regardless of the regret he felt and leave all the messy details behind. Wasn’t that easier? The only thing that would matter was how much was this going to hurt to salvage his reputation.

Will finished tugging on his socks. “How much do you want?”

Dylan scoffed, “I’m not some cheap whore, William.”

“What do you want then?” Will asked as he straightened up not liking where this was going.

Dylan turned the camera over and sighed. “I want your time.”

“My…time?”

Dylan glanced at Will seemly genuinely surprised. “Is it so shocking to you that I might find you attractive?”

It was. It had been. “But what about the girl?” he croaked and even he could hear how desperate that sounded.

Dylan looked down wistfully as he stroked the back of the camera. “The girl, huh,” he said before he shook his head seemly deciding something. “Would it make you feel better to know she isn’t real? I made her up. Surprise.”

Will tasted blood in his mouth. It did, it didn’t, make him feel better, to hear his own delusion validated, but he wouldn’t be mocked. Not by Dylan. He stalked past him going for his coat and shoes before Dylan grabbed his arm. He was stronger than he looked.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked.

Will turned and pressed Dylan to the dresser, the camera digging into his skin as he sandwiched it between them. “Fine,” he snapped, “My weekends?”

“Yes,” Dylan breathed, and Will hated how he looked when he said that. “Five pictures?”

“Ten,” Will snapped, “Or do you not have that many?”

Dylan snapped, “I don’t know Will, have a couple of drinks and we’ll find out. You seem to do that a lot.”

Will snatched the camera from Dylan’s hand who almost screamed before he grabbed Will’s other hand. “No! Please! That is my work camera.” Dylan was shaking so slowly he let go of the camera, as much as he hated to, and let Dylan cradle it.

“I’ll…give you this one,” Dylan said bitterly as he went to open the back of the camera. “A sign of good faith. But…Will you ask me to do things. A couple of drinks and you want to kiss and have sex. And in the morning, you can barely stand to look at me.”

That was true. He never asked for this, but with so much evidence to the contrary, even Will was having a hard time spinning something out of this. Because Dylan was right. The second time they’d slept together he’d woken up before Dylan and panicked. He’d dressed silently, crept out of the room, and he could still hear the hurt in Dylan’s voice that followed him out the door when he’d realized he was gone. But Will thought they were fine. Dylan hadn’t brought it up when they’d thrown rocks. He sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up.

“Just give it to me,” he said trying to sound exasperated and not at all like he was panicking.

Dylan ignored him seeming to want to get this off his chest, “So you’re going to leave eventually whenever you decide you’re done with this whatever this is and I…God damnit Will…I just…I wanted some record that you were here. That you were real.” His whole body was tense, practically shaking, as he popped open the back of the camera. He looked like he might sob. “There, alright. It’s gone.”

Will shuddered at how hurt Dylan looked but he grimaced and stepped back. He stuck out his hand. “The film too.”

“What was exposing it to the light, not enough?” Dylan snapped.

“Give me the film, Dylan!” Will shouted and Dylan recoiled.

Slowly he pulled the film out and handed the spool to Will. It felt heavier than it looked. “You…have a deal,” he said before stalking away towards the door. If Dylan’s panic had been hard to stomach his sob was worse. It was soft, almost imperceptible, but he was very familiar with the sound from the other side of his mother’s door.

He got all the way to the door, hand twisting the handle when Dylan stopped him with, “Wait.” He was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, the sheet in his hand. “Did you—” he began before Will paled and slammed the door behind him.

He took the exterior stairs two at a time, grabbing the railing tightly to keep from slipping and the film even tighter. Though still early morning it was bright enough that the light stung his eyes and sent his head and stomach reeling. He should have taken the medication Dylan had left out for him. It looked like it was going to rain and already he could feel the pressure in his sinuses.

Block after block he went until his lungs burned and he, someone who patrolled this part of the city regularly, was lost. When he drew to a stop in the barren street, he lifted the film overhead and went to throw it, but he found he couldn’t. It burned to hold, but still, he pressed it to his chest. He stumbled into an alley off the main street, deep enough he wouldn’t be seen from the road, and pulled open the film. What if someone found it and it wasn’t fully exposed? Surely that was why he couldn’t relinquish it. He found the picture easily. It was the first on the roll, already turning the pale brown of overexposure. He watched as his contended form vanished under the gray morning light. It occurred to him this might not be the only photo of him on the roll. Fear and hope drove him as he raked through the roll, hand over hand, but he found nothing. There were photos of objects, and people, and landscapes, but no pictures of him. Wherever Dylan had them they weren’t here. It occurred to Will that Dylan had been honest when he’d said this was his work camera. So, he’d destroyed Dylan’s work in his own selfish desire to protect himself. Will started to laugh, and then he started to sob.

It was freezing and Will shivered as he braced himself against the brick of one of the buildings before surrendering and sliding all the way to the ground. He knew what would warm him up. It wasn’t too early that a liquor store might not be open. The thought made him shudder at how he longed for a drink. It would quiet the noise in his head and the knot in his stomach, but that was only temporary relief. Liquor was what had gotten him into this mess, and it wouldn’t dig him back out. In fact, it would only deepen the hole because arriving to work with a hangover, looking a mess as he sure he did, could be excused, but arriving to work drunk would see him immediately fired. Was it wrong that the thought was almost a relief? For once he’d be able to relax. He wouldn’t have to pretend to be competent, reliable, infallible, unflappable, perfect, while he left his gun in his locker at work because he was afraid of what he might do if he took it home. He wouldn’t have to investigate Lune and be suspicious of his friends. But losing his job would destroy him.

Because underneath it all he was just an asshole wasn’t he. He’d destroyed Dylan’s work. He’d made him flinch when he’d yelled, and he had all those scars from “childhood injuries.” He’d taken advantage of Dylan’s fear to take the film from him, even knowing how much it meant, then left him to sob alone not once but twice. Some record that it was real, huh. Will sobbed. Dylan had to be kidding right? He didn’t seriously believe that? He couldn’t honestly care about him, could he? He’d said as much that all of it was a lie, but even Will knew that’d been hollow. Dylan wasn’t a liar. He wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t like Will. He was warm, and good to him even when he didn’t have to, so why had he had to take the picture? Why couldn’t things have just stayed as they were? Why had Dylan had to ruin the only safe, comfortable thing Will had in his life and turn it into an obligation he resented? Why’d he have to make him into a cheap whore who bargained his time, and probably by extension his body, to keep himself safe? Why had Dylan ruined any affection he might have felt for him?

Will buried his face in his hand so he didn’t have to listen to the noise he made. Dylan scared him. Will was afraid of what he could do to him with the pictures, the contents of which if his memory was any good were slutty. But even before that, he’d been afraid. He was afraid because he enjoyed the time he spent with Dylan. He’d felt safe and he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to ruin it, and now it had, and he wanted to feel good that he was right, but it made him sick to his stomach. Because he enjoyed Dylan. He enjoyed how he looked, more than a straight man should, and he’d—he’d masturbated in Dylan’s bed thinking about him. And of course, that was what Dylan had decided to take a picture after. Of course, he’d captured a moment of Will’s intense embarrassing vulnerability. Why’d he had to take the fucking picture? Why couldn’t things have just stayed as they were? Because he was hurting Dylan. His fickle nature was hurting Dylan because he couldn’t make up his mind if he liked him or not. Will knew why he drank. He didn’t have to think about it. Free of the consequences of his actions he could do whatever he wanted. Was this what he wanted?

This should be a simple thing. It shouldn’t bother him how he may, or may not, feel about Dylan. He had friends who were bisexual, but they were women and that was different. He knew that was misogyny talking but still. He was straight. He didn’t like men. He didn’t like Dylan. Because what if he wasn’t? What other things about him that he’d always assumed were true weren’t? He wasn’t the perfect person he presented himself as, he was angry and resentful and selfish. He wasn’t a good friend. He wasn’t a good son. He wasn’t a good employee. The only use he had to anyone was what he could do for them and Dylan was taking advantage of that. Why couldn’t he have just wanted money? That was Will’s fault, wasn’t it? If he could say he was being taken advantage of he didn’t have to deal with any of the messy feelings that maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed it. He was a coward.

Because if he did like Dylan what then? He’d already squandered his chances. He’d hurt Dylan intentionally. How could Dylan possibility like him after he’d hurt him so thoroughly? Will didn’t even know anything about him, other than the girl who may or may not have ever been real. And that scandal. It shouldn’t bother Will what other people thought, but it did. Other people’s opinions of him matter so much to him, even more than his own opinion of himself. He’d crumble, break, worse than he was doing now, in a fucking alley of all places, and there would be nothing to fall back on. Better to not try than try and fail. He shouldn’t want anything. It was so much easier to not. But he wanted Dylan, didn’t he. The thought of not having him around was painful enough that even being blackmailed into it was better than never seeing him again. How could he go back to being painfully lonely after being warm for once?

Now that he’d stopped running the loneliness was settling back in. It wrapped its hand around his throat and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe. He missed his friends. He wished he could talk to them. He needed their help but how could he explain this? Besides, they were always too busy for him. He didn’t say he needed help, but they should know, shouldn’t they? They were his friends, weren’t they? No, they had other things to do while he was left to clean up their messes. He had to remind Kym to do her job often enough he wished she’d never been hired so he could still like her as a friend. Lauren was constantly involved in some kind of trouble due to her self important sense of justice like she was the only person who’d ever lost someone to the Phantom Scythe. She was probably up to something shady with Kieran, yet another loathsome figure in the office. She was probably Lune. Could he really bring himself to arrest her? Hermann would make him, wouldn’t he? If he wanted to be a good officer, he’d do it.

Will checked the time. If he took a cab, he’d have time to find something to eat before work, but finding a cab would be a challenge. Bracing himself against the wall Will stood back up. His legs were numb. He wiped his face. He fixed his hair. He had work. He was a competent officer after all. Maybe he’d replace the film on his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Lion Man just feels like Will's song. Because I have Spotify and nothing better to do. Also, this chapter took forever to edit.


End file.
